


No Matter What Shape (Your Stomach's In)

by SophaSoph



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Potionless - Freeform, an accidental novel in 7 parts, bog baby fic, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophaSoph/pseuds/SophaSoph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is a reference to a 60's song by the T-Bones.</p><p>This is the beginning of Marianne and Bog's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bog King jr.

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't mean to write a novel about this. Gollygeewizz.
> 
> here's the prompt that got me to finally start writing all this:  
> http://strangekink.livejournal.com/293.html?thread=2597#t2597

This was good, this was a routine, Bog liked routine. Marianne had flown in and inspected the newly finished additions to the new fortress. She had all, but directed the entire project. 

“You cannot seriously think I’m letting you build a fortress in another rotted stump?” Might have been what she said, Bog wasn’t particular on words when they were punctuated with a gleaming sword. 

“Then where do you propose the new fortress be built?” Bog countered a lunge and aimed a hard jab at her ribs, which was blocked expertly by Marianne’s sword. 

She already knew the perfect tree to show Bog for his fortress, but it wasn’t either of the first two trees she brought him to.  
The first was a yellow birch, bright and beautiful and… peeling. The bark was a mess of scrolled edges and paper-thin layers. It hadn’t impressed him at all, except for the way the bark was shedding, but that was completely impractical for a goblin fortress. Undeterred, Marianne brought Bog to a tall craggy red maple. It was aged, obviously, the branches were twisted and covered in a fuzz of green moss, lichen was trying to spread up its trunk and the branches that were still living held the liveliest red leaves. It was absolutely breath taking. But not quite right for a fortress. Sap being a primary issue, the tree being very easily spotted and attacked may also have been an issue. Quite determined with the final tree she had chosen to show him, Marianne rushed Bog to the thick trunk of an old and prospering black ash. From the texture of the bark to the very character in the thing, Marianne watched Bog try to stump his approval, and beamed when he finally gave up. Construction began immediately. 

 

Time passed, most of the carving finished, rooms and halls at least were passable. Though most rooms didn’t have doors and the halls were in a state of near constant congestion between carving and moving necessities. The Bog King gave his seal of approval to every room before it was considered done, though most of his judgments were counseled heavily by Marianne, the rest were entirely left to her discretion. On occasion, the soon-to-be fairy queen’s sister and almost-brother-in-law, would visit to see the progress. The new location was highly accessible by the Fair Fields and the Dark Forest, one of Bog’s earliest concerns, but it hadn’t taken much for Marianne (with Griselda’s help) to convince him of the new fortress’ advantages. Bog and Marianne had separate rooms closest to their respective kingdoms, with one meaningfully sized chamber connecting the two via hidden, winding tunnels. They each had an audience hall for meeting with the subjects of their realms, though it was easier to assume the fairy princess was in the goblin hall, rather than track her down among the rooms made specifically for fairy audiences. 

Bog and Marianne were seated in the goblin hall when the Sugar Plum Fairy took audience with them. She had one look between the couple and whatever her opener was, it was dashed aside with an excited, “Have you picked out a name yet?”  
Marianne’s eyebrows arched, she stared blankly at Sugar Plum, entirely flounced. Whatever degree of openly shocked Marianne’s face had adopted, Bog’s face closed in vexation. 

“A name for what?” He asked Plum.

“The castle?” Marianne offered. “Why would we name the castle?”  
It was Plum’s turn to look shocked. She rushed to the throne.

“You don’t know?” She more squealed than said. “But you’re so close! It’s only a few weeks away-“

“Plum! What’s a few weeks away?” Marianne demanded, seeing that Plum was talking directly to her.

“Your planting day! I’d give it –ooooh- give it four weeks, on the safe side. Tell me you’ll name it after me if it’s a girl won’t you?” Plum spun around giddily, completely unaware of the look of horror on Marianne’s face. Bog turned his scowl from Plum to Marianne. A glance at her told him, whatever ‘planting day’ is, it’s bad news. Upon inspection of her reaction, the way her face paled, how she held her hands balled into white-knuckle fists over her lap, something definitely awful was upon them.

“Marianne?” Bog soothed, enveloping an entire fist in one of his claws.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice, how could I not notice. This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening-“ She was cut off by Plum chuckling from a safe distance,which is approximately out of Bog’s reach. 

“Oh, this is definitely happening! Whoo, am I glad I came to speak to you two today.”

“What’s happening?” Bog demanded, reaching for his staff.

“B-og!” Sugar Plum cried, “Don’t tell me you cannot see that Marianne is pregnant?”

“What?” The buzzing that had crept into the Bog King’s wings subsided and he fell back onto the throne watching her. “Marianne?”

“I didn’t know, none of the usual signs were there, nothing I would have expected. Everything’s been normal, I haven’t been nesting, I- Ugh! I have been nesting! This whole fortress was my nesting project- Plum! Are you sure it’s only four weeks away? How can you tell?”

“Cosmic being Sweety.” Plum rested her head on one hand and winked.

“Ugh!” Marianne screamed and lept from the throne to immediately start pacing. “We don’t have anything for a baby, not even a garden for planting day, nothing’s been safety checked in the castle, I mean what if it starts walking or flying and bumps into something and-ah!” Marianne screamed at nothing in particular and reached for her sword.

“Weeeell, seems like I’ve done my job today. Ta-ta!” And out like a light, Plum exited the hall, with both the Bog King and Fairy-Queen-to-be, sequestered to their thoughts.  
After a moment of frantic pacing and finger twiddling, Marianne stopped short and turned to Bog, sword drawn. 

“I have to tell my dad.” She said swinging in the general direction of the Fair Fields. Then she gave a disgusted grunt. 

“He’s going to want us to get married, Dawn’ll be all over that,” and with that she derailed and started babbling again, this time with her sword humming as it cut through the air. “Dad’ll be so upset, and he’ll try to make it the biggest event to compensate for being upset, and I can just see Dawn trying to stuff me into some poofy god-forsaken dress-“

“You’re pregnant?” Bog’s voice came out in a soft grumble, as if he wasn’t sure what the words meant.  
Marianne paused from her next attack to look over her shoulder. 

“That’s not possib... But we’re too different. We can’t…” Bog’s face sunk into the hand propped up on his knee. The other hand clenching the staff at his side.

“I thought so too.” The frustration and anger melting out of her voice, Marianne sheathed her blade.

“We don’t have to get married.” Marianne put a hand over the one pressed to Bog’s face. “To be honest, I’d rather we didn’t rush it.”  
He watched her shuffle her feet between the cracks of his fingers. Every fear and anxiety fled from his mind. So what if Bog’s father was absent most of his life? Bog was pretty sure he didn’t know how to be a father, but if Marianne wasn’t running from it, it would be an adventure worth having.  
Though there were tricky questions rising in his mind about hybrids, the exact parameters of a ‘planting day’, and how dangerous was it actually going to be, raising a goblin/fairy hybrid? Would they have to baby proof all the sharp things in the fortress? That was never an issue for goblins. But goblins don’t come out soft and weak; do fairies? 

“Bog?” The sound of her voice brimming with doubt reached into his ears and pulled him back into the world.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t rush it.” Bog wasn’t sure if the ‘it’ he referred to was the sprout in Marianne’s womb or marriage. He hoped ‘it’ was both.

“Great,” she agreed in earnest. She leaned down and placed a kiss on Bog’s leafy head, then launched herself into the air, sword bared and pointed at the Bog King. 

“Let’s talk about the baby room.”  
Bog’s wings buzzed a moment, unsure if sparring was really that great of an idea if ‘planting day’ was only four weeks away. He still wasn’t sure what that meant. 

“Don’t back out now.” Marianne called down to him. “We haven’t sparred in hours!”

“If I recall, I won the last match. Someone got winded.” Bog sneered, standing to his fullest height, staff in both hands en guard. 

“But who won before that?” Marianne dived for an attack. Her blade gleamed and met with the white bone backrest of the throne, one of the only surviving pieces resurrected from Bog’s previous dwelling. 

“Maybe you have gotten a bit slow?” Bog teased, swinging the amber knotted end of his staff at Marianne’s wings. 

“Maybe you’re getting a bit old to be sparring with fairy princesses?” Marianne shot back and landed a blunt whack across Bog’s rear. He retaliated with a flourish and a well-seated smack on Marianne’s thigh.

 

“What is a ‘planting day’?” Bog finally asked after their match, in which nothing was mentioned of babies or rooms to keep them in. 

“It’s…” Marianne paused, wondering at first why that was even a question, but not pausing long enough to think too hard about it. “Planting day is the day most fairy pregnancies enter their final, usually most unpredictable stage.” Bog appropriately gulped at that. He might be afraid of what he and Marianne had started, but he wouldn’t want it in danger. Or to be a danger, but that was another issue entirely.  
Marianne continued, “Planting day is when the seeds of the newborns are planted in the earth. It’s always best to do it as quickly as possible, there’s usually a party of friends and immediate family. I remember Dawn’s planting! Mom had just come out of the nursery cradling this goopy thing and she didn’t even let the nursemaids take the seed from her. She called for Dad and marched straight out to the family garden. Hah, we had to get rid of the dress she was wearing, none of the stains would come out.”

“You said something about them being unpredictable?” Bog asked, trying to steer the conversation back to informative and less reminiscent. 

“Well,” Marianne faltered, unsure how to talk about fairy pregnancies to a goblin king. It felt rather awkward really. “It’s like any garden or plant, I guess. You plant the seed and look after it and hope that it grows alright and that in a few months you’ll have a baby and not a wilted or chewed on or frost bitten… Y’know fairies are very good at growing things. The Fair Fields bloom every year with very little help anymore. But even in a drought, we could get every bud to bloom.”

“Is that why the primroses still bloom every year?” Bog nudged Marianne as they walked through the halls to their next appointment, both trying to forget that Marianne had said things like ‘wilted’, ‘frost bitten’ and ‘chewed’ in context of planting day. 

“The primroses bloom because they’re stubborn.” Marianne said, stepping into the dining hall ahead of Bog. The room was set with dinnerware and fern doilies and a fresh bouquet of venus flytraps. A glowing fire spat and waved in the fireplace near the table. At one end of which, sat an eager looking Griselda. 

“I caught Plum on her way out of the castle,” Griselda started as soon as they were in earshot. Earshot would have been down the hall and around the corner, but Griselda liked to believe in the docile and gentle tones of her voice, and her eyesight was very poor. Earshot meant within sight for Griselda.  
Bog and Marianne groaned in unison. Marianne had been so freaked out about the whole ordeal and having to talk with her own family that she forgot about Griselda. Bog had figured his mother knew the whole time and wanted the two to find out on their own, however, upon reflection, Griselda wouldn’t have been able to shut up about it if she knew and they didn’t.

“You’ll never believe what she told me!” Griselda reached such a crescendo that she could have rivaled locomotive brakes.

“Was it anything to do with starting a new garden?” Bog tried, hoping that would throw her off a little. If he didn’t know anything about fairy births or pregnancies, what could his mother possibly know?

“What? No, she told me,” Griselda’s voice dipped like this was the gossip to end all gossip. “That some special royal couple -dear to my heart- is expecting their first sprout!”

“Did she tell you who?” Bog mocked. Marianne threw herself into the wooden chair across from Griselda with a very loud huff. 

“No, Plum likes riddles too much for her own good.” She waved the thought of the Sugar Plum Fairy aside and continued, “I have my best guess though!”  
Griselda absolutely bounced in her seat. “When do we get to see the little creature! A year? Eighteen months?”

Bog rolled his eyes and sat at the head of the table in a chair of bone. “Try four weeks.”  
Marianne shot Bog the dirtiest look for that. Griselda either squealed so loud they couldn’t hear her, or she was stunned.

“So soon?” Would that be concern in the goblin mother’s voice?

“Planting day is in four weeks,” Marianne growled to Bog more than Griselda. “It isn’t the actual birth, that won’t be for a year at most.”  
Somehow, Griselda and Bog both seemed deflated by that. 

“A year’s not so bad,” Griselda crooned. “At least you won’t have to lug it around all that time.” 

“Mother,” Bog warned. Griselda ignored him, if she noticed him at all. It was mother-to-mother time.

“I had to carry Bog for 23 months!” Marianne gave Griselda a queasy smile. She had stopped counting the times Griselda brought this up, but now it was all too real for her. 

“I don’t –Fairy pregnancy usually only lasts a few months before planting- Really we didn’t know this was possible.” Despite herself, Marianne felt it would be too easy confiding in Griselda. 

“How long has it been? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” With her back to the fireplace, it felt like Griselda was at the head of the table, rather than Bog. 

“We –didn’t- know...?” Marianne said, Bog bristled beside her, anticipating his mother’s reaction. Marianne did something quite impressive then, she continued before Griselda could get in a word edgewise. “I don’t know how long I’ve been pregnant. Fairies have signs that they’re having a baby and nothing has changed. I don’t even look like I’m ready for a planting day!”

“Oh don’t worry about that. Most goblin mothers don’t even know they’re expecting until it pops out.” Griselda nodded into her words like they were a universal law. 

“But you knew,” Marianne said. 

“I had more of a fairy pregnancy, I think, than a goblin pregnancy. Bog’s father wasn’t all goblin.”

“What?” Marianne and Bog both sat up, all ears for Griselda, which only delighted her.

“How do you know what a fairy pregnancy is?” Bog asked.

“Bog’s dad was part fairy?” Marianne asked at the same time. 

“Of course he was!” Griselda said, ignoring her son. “How else would goblins, like my son, have wings? And the previous Bog King was the oddest thing, you could hardly call him a goblin. He looked like a tree.” Marianne restrained herself from snorting. Bog growled something about not looking anything like his father and why are they even talking about this?  
“He was classically handsome though, with deep-set green eyes, tall and brooding, all jagged edges and claws and the loveliest smile.”  
Marianne tried to picture Griselda’s goblin king, but kept coming up with images of wicked bogeymen that would sooner leap out of a dark hollow, than offer a flower to a fair maiden.  
“When I carried Bog I didn’t seem to be pregnant in the usual way,” Griselda seemed to remember why they got on that topic. “I could tell I was expecting a baby, I started singing, I ate enough fruit to gag any goblin, and the entire castle was spotless by the time Bog arrived.” Griselda shook herself as if she was remembering darker times. 

“Oh,” Marianne said. She had done all of that, but those were just normal for her. Her most unusual new habit was the few times she tried some of the meats that the goblins ate, but they tasted awful and upset her stomach. “What’s a normal goblin pregnancy like?”

“Most girls eat their mates as soon as they’ve mated,” Griselda started with a wide spread grin on her face. Bog shook his head. This was the last thing he wanted to have to hear. Getting the talk once in his lifetime from his mother was once too many, but for Marianne to be getting it from her was an honest tragedy. “I never understood that, personally, a mate would do you a lot more good alive than digested, I always thought.” 

Marianne took one of Bog’s hands in her grasp. He glanced at her graceful elongated fingers and then to her face, which was still turned to Griselda, though her attention flitted from Bog to his mother. He caught her eye and the look of interest for what Griselda had to tell her. He placed a kiss on Marianne’s knuckles then stood up.

“Excuse me, ladies; I’m going to see about our dinner.”

“He always hates when I talk about sex in front of him,” Griselda whispered to Marianne as Bog stepped away from the table. Naturally, he heard every word and it made him wince.

 

The Bog King hadn’t made it to the kitchens before his mind was gripped with scurrying goblin sprouts and buzzing wings and his father and how could this possibly have happened? Why didn’t he know that his father wasn’t all goblin? Were there really no other goblins with wings? He hadn’t even noticed. There were the more insect-like maidens that his mother had tried to pair him off with. But none of them had the same look he does. Were fairies and goblins really so similar? Bog was vexed.  
To further his dismay, he had wandered into the very heart of the fair fields half of the fortress. He glowered at the bright crystals that sat embedded in the walls and cast rainbows anywhere the light passed through them. The sheer amount of intricacy from corner to corner was too extravagant for him. What with plants carved into the walls and legends illuminated in between every vine, it was too much. His face beamed despite himself because every bit of it reminded him of Marianne. Looking closely he found the picture stories interesting, every legend was of goblins and fairies, either working together or coexisting. That was something he never noticed before. Though, to be fair, the last time he was in this part of the castle it was dark and he didn’t go by the main passageways.  
Something touched down with a swift wing beat near him and Bog turned to face the younger fairy princess. Dawn’s hair stood up like an angry current at sunrise. That is, Bog couldn’t decide if Dawn purposely styled her hair to look like a blond hurricane or if it got that way when she flew and she didn’t realize it. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here!” Dawn hollered, she was excited about something. 

“I do live here, princess.” He said, a bit more gravel in his voice than he intended. It wasn’t a lie, he just hardly left the inner most chambers of the goblin parts of the fortress. 

“I didn’t mean anything, Bog, it’s just, like, usually it’s Marianne that crosses sides. Where is Marianne? I came to give her a heads up that dad is coming to see her.” She was absolutely wriggling with excitement.  
For a moment, Bog was convinced Sugar Plum had gotten to Dawn and the Fairy King.

“Is he coming to finally tell her he’s retiring?” Bog smirked.

“As if,” Dawn rolled her eyes dramatically at the idea. “It’s a surprise.”

“Then why are you telling her that he’s coming here?”

“Because she hates surprises!” Dawn shook her head like this was as obvious as the sun. Then took to dashing down the hall to find her sister. 

“She’s in the dinning hall with my mother!” Bog warned the young princess as she disappeared around a corner. There was a scuffle and Dawn appeared again.

“She’s with your mom? Alone?” Dawn’s jaw dropped.

“Seems they have a lot to talk about today.” Bog called down the hall, his echo reaching back to him. He could hear how smug he was and that surprised him. He certainly didn’t feel smug. He felt queasy, like the first time he tried to tell Marianne how he felt about her. He turned in the direction of the kitchen and felt something collide with his shins. It was the elf, Sunrise, or Sunnyside, whatever, the elf that Bog had every reason to thank for bringing Marianne into his life. He picked the poor lad up and dusted him off.

“Did you see which way Dawn went?” He heaved the phrase out as he tried to catch his breath.

“She ran straight for the dining hall.” Bog nodded in the general direction, knowing the boy already knew the way. 

“Thanks man.” And he was off too. Considering that was the scouting party for the Fairy King’s entourage, Bog decided it would be best to hurry to the kitchens and have a little extra food prepared for their lunch, hopefully missing the royal’s entrance to the fortress. 

In the kitchen, Bog learned that while he was out wandering the castle, lunch had been served in the dining hall, but the cooks would gladly prepare something extra for the surprise guests. Satisfied, Bog stalked off to the dining hall and found himself passing through its door much quicker than he anticipated. He found Dawn and Marianne sitting with their arms linked together and Sunset at Dawn’s elbow. Marianne looked like she had been holding her breath and just now realized it once she saw Bog through the door. The other two looked embarrassed and terrified all at once, with no small amount of relief spreading over them as the Bog King came through the door. Griselda, however, didn’t so much as pause in telling the story that was undoubtedly the source of the trio’s discomfort.  
“I haven’t missed our guest, have I?” Bog asked hopefully as he rounded the table, slouching into his seat. 

“Guest?” Griselda croaked excitedly.

“Oh! Marianne, I forgot to mention, Dad’s coming for a visit, he has some big news to give you and Bog!” Some of the furious blush left Dawn’s face as she started squirming again.

“For me and Bog?” Marianne repeated. When did her father ever have two words to spare for Bog? Two words that weren’t underhanded criticisms fringed with fear. 

“Uh-huh! Sunny and I had to rush over as soon as we knew!” Dawn hugged Marianne’s arm close to her. Marianne looked to Sunny for interpretation. The color had mostly come back to his face.

“Sunny what is she talking about?” 

“Don’t look at me, I was told I couldn’t breath a word until your dad got here.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” He managed a self-satisfied grin through the left over terror on his face.  
Marianne gave an exhausted glare at Bog’s already half emptied dinner plate. He offered a portion of the room temperature meal, but she declined. That didn’t sit right with the Bog King. 

“Did ye eat anything at all Marianne?” He queried. 

“Of course I did! I’m just nervous, you know.” She kept her eyes on the table, raising her shoulders for emphasis with a glance at Bog’s eyes. “There’s a lot going on today.”  
Dawn looked at her sister curiously.

“Yeah,” Bog agreed. Griselda was surprisingly quiet. Maybe she remembered how terrifying it could be having a baby for the first time. More likely she was basking in the tender-care and romance emanating from her son and Marianne.  
Dawn opened her mouth to ask Marianne what was going on, she was interrupted when a pair of royal fairy guards stepped into the room, followed closely by the king. 

Marianne had gone pale; she really wasn’t excited about telling her father she was pregnant. It didn’t matter what his grand surprise was, she had an over-all bad feeling that started with a cold chill and ended with sweat everywhere on her body, or maybe that was her lunch? Happy about it, not happy about it, she still stood with Bog to welcome her father to their shared home. 

“Welcome to our home, sire.” The Bog King smiled, though his greeting came off more as a warning than a warm-hearted welcome to what was almost family.

“Dad! This is so unexpected,” Marianne pointedly looked between Dawn and Sunny, then to her father. “What brings you here?” 

“Thank you,” the Fairy King accepted stiffly. He stood a moment in the doorway, then with an uncertain footstep, he came into the room. “I’ve been in counsel all month with my advisors and I’ve finally gotten them to come around to a new legislation I’ve been trying to enact. I thought you two would like to be the first to know.”

“I don’t know if I can take anymore big news today.” Marianne grumbled under her breath as she stepped away from the table to escort her father to a seat at the table. 

“Have a seat, Dad. You’ve met Griselda before, right? Bog’s mother?” She set him in a chair across from the goblin mother. The Fairy King was too obviously out of his zone. Marianne was proud of him for being so well behaved, she hoped his good humor would last. 

“There should be refreshments arriving soon, if you would like to eat before you leave today.” The Bog King offered politely. 

“Th-thank you.” Marianne’s father managed, trying to decipher Griselda’s wink. 

“What’s your big news?” Marianne asked as she took a new seat next to Bog. Dawn and Sunny watched the king expectantly.

“Well, you’ve always been so adamant about reaching out and clearing the air between the Dark Forest and the Fair Fields,” the king said as he found his peace. Marianne nodded, a tint of blush coloring her face. She glanced up at Bog, he met her eyes with a curious little grin. 

“My advisors and I have finally come up with an idea for creating a treaty between goblins and fairies.” He leaned forward, his armor clinking as it shifted.  
Marianne sat up straighter in her chair, surprise written all over her face. She kept wary of what her father was going to say next. Sometimes these things turned into schemes that ultimately exploited the other party, she had learned that much from the treaty with the elves. But that was such a long standing agreement, that it would take centuries to completely change it; with the goblins, there stood a new chance at honest equality.

“We’re listening.” Bog chimed.  
Griselda took in the scene. Everyone was present; everyone, at least, that she could consider family, or partly family. Despite the politicking, she knew this was a good time, a time that her son and Marianne would remember for a very long while. Then Marianne let out a sound that was a wet confusion of a burp and a hiccup. She immediately stood up and rushed from the room her wings creating a gale behind her. Everyone sat in bewilderment, watching the door as it slammed shut. Everyone except for the Bog King, who leapt after her, his wings buzzing as he burst out of the room.  
Dawn and Sunny watched in shock. They looked to eachother, but neither one had an answer for the other. Sunny shrugged his shoulders, Dawn’s face pinched up with worry. The two turned to the parents at the table. The old queen and the Fairy King made a remarkable contrast. Griselda looked like she was living in a dream, the soft smile that reached into her glimmering eyes was the very opposite of the abject fear and stiff concern of the Fairy King. Dawn turned to Griselda, not sure that she had a better grasp on the situation, but certain she might have an answer.

“Griselda, what just happened?”  
Griselda’s mouth split into a wide, toothy smile. They didn’t know!  
Before she could even breath, the door Bog and Marianne had just left through, opened once more. Stuff and Thang bustled through at top speed.

“B. K. wants Griselda and Princess Dawn in the queen’s chambers at once.” Stuff said as she came to a stop at the table. Thang came up beside.

“He’ll bleat with the Berry Wing here.” Thang reported.

“What?” The Fairy King hadn’t followed.

“You stay here, handsome.” Griselda interpreted. She hopped down from her chair and led Dawn out of the room. Sunny watched them go as Thang escorted the two out of the room to Marianne’s chambers. 

“Marianne isn’t a queen yet,” Sunny finally said after deciding to just wait with Dawn’s father. 

“Fooled me,” Stuff rolled her eyes, like obviously Marianne wasn’t queen yet.

“What’s wrong with my daughter?” The Fairy King whispered in shock.

“How should I know?” Stuff said, she was going to be about as useful as a trained ant. 

“B. K. sent the orders, I just have to make sure you two are here to meet him.”  
Sunny rested his elbows on the table, the sense that something heavy was about to happen draped over his shoulders. The Fairy King looked like he couldn’t decide between sitting peaceably at the table or rushing down the hall to find the Bog King and have the royal guards encourage him to confess to whatever he had done to the Fairy King’s daughter.  
For now the old fairy sided on not inciting embarrassing political situations because the door was opening again. An interesting mix of goblins and elves entered the room. It was the wait-staff ferrying the food Bog said was ordered earlier. The table was filled with food and beverages of every kind. Then the room was left quiet, again. A few minutes more. Marianne’s father was getting twitchy, Sunny snacked. 

“Would you like any, Stuff?” Sunny offered. It felt odd, to just be sitting, not knowing when their host was supposed to be returning. Marianne was obviously sick, though Sunny couldn’t understand why it had to be such a big deal. Dawn had hay fever last week, but they didn’t call a counsel about it.  
Stuff peaked over the edge of the table and took a plate of something that looked fuzzy and crunchy and gray and pulled out a chair for herself a few feet away from Sunny and the king. 

“Sunny,” the king finally did something other than stare at the door. “Do you know what’s going on right now?”

“Marianne’s sick, and Bog is probably having a hard time leaving her with his mother.” Sunny observed. It was a very keen observation, but the king’s worry-adled mind, had trouble seeing it.

“Thanks, Sunny.” The king said, mildly sarcastic.  
Another minute of silence passed, Marianne’s father finally gave in to the array of food as something to distract him. The door to the hall swung open again. This time revealing a rather antagonized looking Bog King holding a small scrap of birch bark that looked like it had been written on.  
Without any explanation of his actions or surly attitude, the Bog King solemnly approached the Fairy King and began reading.

‘Dad, don’t worry I ate something that didn’t agree with me at lunch, I’ll be back in an hour or two. If you have to leave before then, Bog has agreed to answer your questions.’ 

“I want to see my daughter,” the Fairy King demanded.

“She doesn’t want you to see her,” Bog said. 

“It sounds like she’s still feeling pretty sick.” Sunny tried to comfort the Fairy King.

“Fine,” the gray fairy father conceded, the gears in his head trying to make sense of this predicament. “I want a full explanation of what’s going on.”  
Bog’s shoulders clacked as they bristled. He shrunk in on himself. This couldn’t end well. 

“Bog?” Sunny watched the Bog King stutter and mumble. It’s a new experience when something as terrifying as Bog, acts like a schoolboy caught in the middle of a prank. It would have made Sunny laugh, at least, if they weren’t talking about Marianne.

“I don’t think she would want me to-“ Bog mumbled loud enough for his audience. “It’s a very personal affair…” He trailed off; his mind was racing trying to justify telling Marianne’s father her news. Bog’s fingers ticked together in front of him. He looked everywhere but at the Fairy King. Sunny didn’t like watching Bog squirm, it felt like Bog was waiting for the moon to drop out of the sky to strike him down. Bog hoped it would. 

“It can’t be so personal that her own father shouldn’t know.” The Fairy King was standing, out of his chair. His green-sheeted arms crossed over the purple crystal on his breast plate.  
Bog ran a hand over the foliage on his head. Marianne did this on purpose.

“No, I suppose not.” Bog agreed. He eyed the fairy guards standing at attention on the other side of the room. Bog indicated them to the other king with a nod of his head. “Tell them to step out a moment.” 

“Why?” The Fairy King asked perplexed. 

“It’s very personal to Marianne,” Bog answered.  
The Fairy King dismissed his guards. After the door had shut and latched behind them, Bog offered the other king a seat, but he refused. Sunny had started to think Marianne was on her death bed, the way the Bog King was carrying on. He hoped Dawn was alright if she had already found out. 

“I want my explanation.” The Fairy King demanded when Bog tried offering him something from the table. 

The Bog King flinched making his armor rustle and click.  
“Yes, well, uh-m,” Bog started stuttering again. “Marianne is pregnant.”

“What?” Certainly the Fairy King hadn’t heard him right.

“Marianne is pregnant?” Sunny repeated, looking at Bog with the most confused expression. “Is that even possible?”

“I assure you, I didn’t think it was before today.” The Bog King wanted nothing more than to sit down before his legs gave out from the pressure building in him, instead he forced his eyes to match with the Fairy King.  
They were watery, a torrent of fear and joy trying to burst out of the old fairy at the same time.  
That threw Bog for a loop, he wasn’t sure if he should try to console his paramour’s father, or to prepare for war. Ultimately, the Fairy King spoke up.

“Is she alright?” The other king’s voice was as starry as his eyes.

“She’s fine,” Bog let out a bit of the air he hadn’t been breathing. “Her sister and my mother are keeping her company.”  
There was a faint gagging sound from behind Bog; Stuff had gagged on whatever she was eating.

“Go check on Marianne,” Bog ordered her realizing the goblin was in the room. There were worse audiences that could have eavesdropped. 

“Right –ack- away,” A cough welled up in her throat as she tried to speak. 

“When is she due?” The Fairy King asked, his eyes were clearing up, he had managed to beat down some of the fear in his expression.

“We were told planting day would be in a few weeks.” Bog felt a bit defensive toward the Fairy King, ready to defend his unborn child even if being a father terrified him and he wasn’t sure he could be trusted with a soft puncturable baby.

“Planting day? So, it isn’t your-“ The Fairy King cut himself short from the way Bog flared at that.

“Of course it’s mine!” The Bog King hunched over defensively, his shoulder’s rattling.


	2. Bog King jr. pt ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! 
> 
> **Warning** I didn't go into depth about the birth, but I didn't avoid it.

_“But that’s impossible,_ ” The gray old king looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

_“We just went over this,”_ Sunny grumbled from the chair he was now standing in.

_“If ye’d like to wait, I’m sure my mother would be much more thorough in her explanation than myself.”_ The words squeezed out between Bog **‘** s teeth more like a threat than a suggestion.

_“No, no!”_ The fairy king emphatically declined. _“I just have a few more questions.”_

Bog had to take a seat for this.

Sunny hopped down and adjusted his chair. Wherever this conversation was going, it would be informative, probably things Sunny already knew. He had a good feeling most of what was about to be said would make him cringe.

_“Marianne hasn’t been in any pain?”_ Her father started with that, he stood with an arm behind his back and the other gesturing at Bog.

_“No,”_ Bog crossed his arms over his chest. He thought of Marianne’s shock when Plum gave them the news. Marianne kept saying she should have seen the signs when they were alone in her room. Bog kept trying to calm her down, reminding her she didn’t have any reason to know the signs of a goblin pregnancy or any mix of their two respective blood lines. _“We didn’t find out about it until today.”_

_“This whole time she didn’t know? How could she not know if planting day is within a month?”_ Marianne’s father eyed the Bog King accusingly.

_“Correct me if I’m wrong, Marianne has never had a reason to know the symptoms of goblin pregnancy?”_ Bog matched the king’s glare.

_“Of course not.”_ He replied proudly, standing straight and looking all too much like a stuffed bird.

_“In these circumstances, neither of us have any idea what we could have expected.”_ Bog gestured the same way the Fairy King did as he deflated that pride a little, driving in the fact that Marianne had chosen a goblin to be her paramour. It had been fitting for her, and the two found understanding with eachother that they never knew with their own kind.

_“Is she safe? I value my daughters above anything else, Bog King, I won’t have her in danger.”_ The fae’s words roiled the Bog King. To doubt Marianne’s ability with the goblins was nothing short of impudence.

_“How’s that? When all of the Dark Forest considers her their queen?”_

_“You’re not married yet, others would still try to take her place,”_ the king’s armor glinted as he growled into the phrase.

_“Aye, and they have, yet here she is, still in one piece and expecting. Tell me what nesting is,”_ Bog didn’t like the way the Fairy King insinuated that he would be unfaithful or that Marianne was in danger of being dethroned. Without any attempt at tact, the Bog King changed subject. He never understood what ‘nesting’ meant, but thought it would be a good indicator if he could have recognized it.

_“Nesting?”_ The gray fairy’s face scrunched together in confusion. The sudden change in subject tossed him off his chase.

_“She said she was doing that, it upset her.”_ Bog leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

_“Nesting is what you do to make a house ready for a child.”_ The Fairy King thought of Marianne hustling and bustling around the fortress the way the late queen did at Fair Rock years ago. It irked him that the construction would have leant to Marianne’s behavior being over looked.

Bog grumbled something to himself about being a fool and how he would have liked to known when Marianne spent nights in his room mostly just straightening things or cleaning, that it could have been because of a sprout in her womb.

_“Is there anything else, she did that might have seemed out of place?”_ The Fairy King offered, trying to get the most from Bog while he felt like talking about it.

_“Nothing, she eats fruit, mostly, sings at times, and we spar like usual, all those things I assumed were normal for her,”_ Bog watched the Fairy King nod his gold crowned head. None of Marianne’s behavior appeared outside of the norm for the abnormal fairy princess. _“Her stomach is hard though, I thought it was muscle, but lately it’s as hard as armor.”_

The Fairy King quelled his disgust at the idea of the Bog King and his daughter sharing a bed and did his best to keep it strictly a father to father-to-be talk.

_“That’s the seed,”_ he sounded… Excited? Or disturbed?

_“Her stomach is getting hard because of the seed,”_ Continued the Fairy King. _“Has it turned green?”_

_“What?”_ Bog found he was more surprised by the Fairy King’s turn of attitude. So far this had been more informative than the ‘subdued-resentful-glares-across-a-very-silent-table’ that he was accustomed to with the Fairy King.

_“Her stomach?”_ Sunny had avoided the conversation until this point, ready to hide under the table if/when it came to blows between the kings. The way Sunny thought of it, elves just got big around the middle until the baby gets pushed into the world; it seemed as simple as that.

_“Her stomach, is it turning green?”_ The Fairy King asked again, keeping his attention on Bog.

_“Why would it do that?”_ Bog had excellent vision in the dark, but colors weren’t as tellable as shapes. He wasn’t about to admit anything from that arena of his and Marianne’s life to Marianne’s father.

_“When her stomach turns green, she could be as close as hours away from planting.”_ Explained the Fairy King, aware that Bog had intentionally avoided answering the question.

Now this was a lot to consider. They didn’t so much as have a garden or a nursery or whatever you needed to raise this sort of child, and planting day already being so close as it was, now Marianne’s going to turn green?

_“Sires, and princeling,”_ came a voice from the door that Stuff had gone through moments ago.

_“I’m not a-“_ Sunny was cut off, Thang swung the doors open and Griselda came in, walking as if she were queen of the world.

_“What is it?”_ Bog tensed, trying not to sound panicked, but his mother just looked too pleased.

_“Marianne would like to see you, right away,”_ she said to Bog, then directed a regal stare to the other two. _“You two; walk with me.”_

_“This way, Sire.”_ Thang chimed as he led the Bog King to Marianne.

_“I know the way to Mari’s room.”_ Bog growled, leaning forward towards Thang. He wanted to know what was going on, not to be given orders and led around.

_“She’s not in her room,”_ Thang tittered, well, about as much as an amphibious gob could titter, he sounded very happy.

_“What? Did something happen to her?”_ Bog’s wings started to buzz; if Marianne was in trouble he wasn’t going to waist time walking.

_“I’m sure it’s nothing,”_ Thang squeaked, remembering whom it was he walked with. _“She asked to be taken to the Healer’s ward. That’s all, couldn’t be anything more, Sire.”_

_“It could be a lot more.”_ Bog growled, his deep brogue putting sharp nettles in his words as he took off, tripping up Thang as he went.

 

 

The Healer’s ward was a hall that spread across the border of both kingdoms. It was a bit separated from the fortress itself, connected by a couple of underground tunnels and one bridge. The hall was carved out of a large knot work of roots in the ash tree; it was a series of wide-open halls and small rooms. Mostly fairies and elves were seen rushing in and out to the nearby realms. Few goblins had been employed due to their propensity for ripping things apart and eating them. Tearing things open was something every goblin-sprout learned at a young age, putting it back together had become a new thing. Safe to say only a few goblins had passed the entrance exam for working in the hall. Now that he found reason to employ such staff, Bog was glad that the exam was so rigorous.

 

The Bog King caught the first creature he saw leaving the Healer’s ward and demanded to know where Marianne had been taken. The terrified thing, pointed to the Eastern end of the ward. The one furthest into the Dark Forest. Of course. Bog took off with a thrust from his wings; someone was having a hard time of it where he was headed. By the sound of it, a bone was being set. The closer he got the more he could tell the grunts sounded fairy in origin. Perhaps it was biased of him, but he grinned. The rooms Bog passed were empty or being slept in. He came on the one where the most noise was coming from and a wisp of an elf popped into the crystal window of the door. She beckoned him in; this must be Marianne’s room. That didn’t make him feel better about what he didn’t know. The little woman led him into an adjoined room and had him wash his hands and arms up to his shoulders.

_“Where’s Marianne? Is she alright?”_ Bog shook water from his claws, trying not to rip through the room to see why Marianne sounded like her teeth were being pulled.

The elfmaid reached for the door to let Bog out. _“The Queen is doing well, she’ll have that seed out in no time.”_

The Bog King felt every breath he ever inhaled escape him. He couldn’t even muster a surprised shuffle out of his shoulders.

_“Sire?”_ The elfmaid watched him warily.

_“Planting-day…“_ Bog choked. _“It wasn’t supposed to be for another four weeks.”_

_“Bog?”_ Marianne was standing up with the aid of her sister in the other room. She could just see his shoulder through the open door and around the Healer attending her. _“Bog!”_ She sounded happy, if a bit breathless.

The Bog King rushed into the room. It was warm and looked more like Marianne’s room than a room in a Healer’s ward. The walls were carved with the same trailing vines and pictographs as the fairy hall. A gemstone skylight let in the fading light of the sunset outside. A few small lights had been set up. Bog remembered Marianne turning him out of her room earlier, claiming she just had a stomachache and to go talk to her father before he sent a come-hither on her paramour. Now she was exhausted with effort and a bit sticky looking. Her hair stuck up in places even more egregiously than usual. Her red armored dress was gone and she only wore her onionskin chemise. It had already been practically see-through, but now a bit soaked through and it was practically invisible. In the fading light, he could see that her stomach was a bright green. Beside her, Dawn had the look of a dutiful sister, but couldn’t hide how mortified she was of the situation.

Marianne’s face was strained, but she looked at Bog so giddily, like some great deity just burst through the skylight to grant them all their heart’s desires.

_“P-planting-day isn’t for another four weeks.”_ Was the most his mind had come up with when he finally said something.

_“Plum can see an expectant mother from across an ocean, but she can’t predict one.”_

_“Hmph,_ ” a loud disgruntled sound came from the corner of the room Bog hadn’t been paying attention to. The Healer had stepped aside to order the midwives into action. They were laying out towels, some looked warm and fluffy, woven from cotton, and the rest were thin, waxy looking things.

_“What… what do I do?”_ Bog finally found his voice, though maybe not his sense.

_“It’s planting day, boy.”_ The Healer’s voice boomed. The best description for the Healer was always amicable. He was large and roundish with great claws on his feet and leathery wings that generously webbed his arms and fingers together. Anyone could tell you what a bat looked like, but they couldn’t put a finger on what exactly the Healer looked like. It was best to say he resembled a bat and leave it there.

_“I can see that,”_ Bog snarled. He stood next to Marianne to give Dawn a break, she took a careful step away from her sister. Marianne threw an arm around Bog’s neck, he supported her at the waist.

_“Let her do as she needs,”_ The Healer drawled slowly. _“She knows best what to do, I’m here if needed.”_

_“Griselda helped me plan- out,”_ Marianne whispered to Bog between breaths. He glanced down at her curiously.

_“Don’t tell me now,”_ He whispered back. Whatever they planned, he was sure it could wait. Bog was having a hard enough time not going ballistic and chasing down Sugar Plum, whatever Marianne’s plans with his mother, he wasn’t keen on hearing them.

Marianne pinched the soft spot on the back of his neck.

_“Ow!”_ He whined. Marianne gave him a look that said, ‘shut up and listen.’

_“Griselda is taking Sunny- and my dad to the garden-”_ She sunk down, losing the last word in a drawn out groan. Bog dropped down beside her, whatever else she had to say was pushed down back into her lungs. Dawn stepped closer and fanned her sister gently with her wings.

_“Thanks,”_ Marianne tried to say, but it came out as little more than a gasp.

The sun had gone from the sky and the light was quickly fading. A moment passed where all Bog could do was watch Marianne’s face as it strained with her body against the seed in her womb. It looked like she was going through hell.

Marianne doubled over her knees as she squatted, one hand flat on the ground trying to grip the stones laid in the floor, the other hand nearly severing Bog’s shoulder from the rest of him in its hold. A sound like a bird titter escaped Marianne’s lips and she relaxed a bit, then all in one, she tensed up. She did that a couple times before Bog chanced a look at the progress. He saw something, he wasn’t sure what, but something.

_“Healer?”_ The midwives rushed Bog and Marianne, one with the cotton towels and the other with the waxy ones. The Healer shuffled over, his claws scraping a little across the stones. Marianne shifted into Bog’s embrace. _”Marianne?”_

Marianne tossed her head back and her body followed in an arch.  The elfmaid held out the waxy towel and caught the seed as it came out. Marianne crumpled against Bog as he was handed the warm gelatinous bundle. The fairy-midwife gave the new mother a pat down with one of the cotton towels. Dawn set upon her sister excitedly.

_“Marianne! You did it! It’s planting day!”_ She hugged her sister, tossing her to and fro. Marianne for her part just let it happen, she was about the same consistency as the seed.

_“Time for the last push.”_ The Healer sighed. Everyone looked at him as one. The fairy-midwife spoke up.

_“He’s a little slow.”_ The fairy smiled.

_“Let’s go to the garden then.”_ Marianne got as far as her knees when she tried to stand up, her legs just refused to carry her. She tried her wings, but everything ached. Seeing that, Bog scooped her up and set her on his shoulder, his face set in a shocked deadpan. Dawn jumped back in surprise, she’d only seen them do that once when they had gotten dragged into a game of king of the hill with Dawn, Sunny, and Sunny’s younger siblings. They didn’t win. It was comical watching all the little elves rushing the almighty Bog King to be picked up, but this one was far more heartwarming. Marianne’s seed cradled in one arm, Marianne on his shoulder, all looked a bit odd, but heartfelt. Marianne reached down from where she had draped herself over Bog’s head and stroked the goopy messy bundled in the crook of Bog’s arm.

_“Dawn,”_ The sharp brogue in his voice was almost peaceful. _“Where’s the garden Marianne wanted to plant it in?”_

Marianne hummed from on top of Bog’s head. She had folded an arm over his leafy scalp, but as soon as her cheek set down on it, she was asleep.

_“Follow me,”_ Dawn chirped happily leading them out of the ward and down to a patch of earth hidden away by a small network of ash roots and dandelions.

 

 

While Dawn led Bog to the garden, the moon rose over the forest canopy. It’s light obscured by the foliage of the trees, but a soft blue hue still touched on everything. When Dawn and Bog touched down, Marianne slid from Bog’s shoulder and knotted the towel about her like a sarong. Griselda approached her, she had visibly been crying, but all the air of a queen was still in her. They took eachother’s hands and some of the tiredness left Marianne’s eyes, she was standing, which was itself remarkable. She looked out over the space she had chosen for planting-day. It was a bit closed in, not so sheltered that light wouldn’t reach it, but enough that nosing critters would pass by. Just above the garden, was the balcony of her and Bog’s shared chamber. She turned away from Griselda and waved him over. Bog shifted the wax-towel bundle in his arm, shock still pinned to the corners of his face, and approached the two women. Marianne’s father met with him as he reached his mother and Marianne. Dawn and Sunny skirted the group and held hands, giddily watching the big event.

_“May I?”_ Asked the old fairy, holding out his hands to Bog, they were shaking. Though the Fairy King seemed eager to meet what would become his grandchild, it was a cheap mask over his anguish. Bog twisted away from the old fairy and his uncertain eyes, until he got a sharp jab in the side from Marianne, his shoulders bristled, but he handed over the bundle to its grandparent. Marianne’s father took the seed, though he was sure he didn’t want to see it in a good light. The Fairy King chanced a look at the seed, it was chestnut colored and still slick with gold veins racing through it, it looked every bit like Marianne’s seed on her planting day. The old king let his nerves go and passed the wax towel to Griselda. Griselda had never participated in a true planting-day, but Marianne explained how it worked to her. How the first seed was always passed from parent to parent and then planted. After the initial planting day, every subsequent seed would be passed around like-wise, but anyone would be allowed to participate. When Griselda got a hold of the seed, her face went livid with joy. She inspected it closely, unraveled the towel and replaced it, decidedly pleased with her future grandchild, she kissed the squishy bundle (earning a shocked flinch from Bog) and passed it back to its mother.

_“Can she do that?”_ The Bog King asked Marianne as he helped her kneel on the earth.

_“Sure, I kissed Dawn when she was planted. She turned out alright… Mostly.”_

_“Hey! I heard that, Marianne!”_ Dawn cried from where she and Sunny stood nearby, watching. _“Dad, there’s nothing wrong with me is there?”_

_“Of course not, Darling.”_ He answered in certainty, though he wished he were certain of Marianne and the Bog King’s seed. It vividly reminded him of Marianne’s seed when she was planted, but that didn’t mean much considering that the Bog King was involved on the other end of this. While he fought to maintain his enthusiasm for a grandchild, he had a harder time keeping his doubt and fear of the Bog King from creeping in.

_“Okay,”_ Marianne invited, tucking the seed into her arm where it took up considerably more space than when Bog held it in the same way. _“Time to dig the bed.”_

Everyone took a fistful of dirt and set it aside for Marianne to nestle the seed in the earth. Bog had probably taken the largest handful of soil, bringing the hole to just the right depth. The seed was put in its bed and buried. Dawn and Sunny struck up a song that didn’t have any words, but apparently a lot of harmony.

 

 108 days, or roughly, 8 months later, a thick prickly pumpkin vine had grown out of the seed’s bed. The mane vine was a deep almost black green and faded into the brightest fluorescent green at its curliest tip. Large pastel orange blooms erupted from every bud, at night they opened up and soaked in the sounds of the forest. In the morning they twisted shut again to keep from losing moisture in the muggy late summer heat. The vine continued to bloom, with a beautiful display every night, until mid-autumn. There was only one bloom left on the vine, the rest had disappeared, withered, or simply fallen away. This last one, wasn’t the biggest bud, but it wasn’t remarkably small either, its one peculiarity was that it never opened. Bog and Marianne took turns and often came to look after it together. Marianne talked to it with every visit, Bog had to get used to the idea before awkwardly sputtering something about the weather and fairies can be real assholes sometimes, but not your mother, though she had her days, but who doesn’t? Hah… This felt absolutely ridiculous.

169 days after planting-day, the last bloom finally opened in the night, when the crickets were at their loudest and the bats chittered at their good fortune for such noisy food. The last bloom on the pumpkin vine began to open, something inside of it wriggled a bit. Marianne just stepped into the garden when she saw the flower burst open and flip on its side. She rushed to catch the pale lump that rolled down the orange petal and onto the earth. A peel of laughter erupting out of the blossom as Marianne righted herself, baby in her arms. The round little thing squirmed reaching and kicking with chubby baby limbs that were a bit eerily long for a regular new born. A great wide and pink smile spread across the sprout’s face as Marianne cooed and sighed over him. Yes, the baby was definitely male, but whether or not that would change later in life was up to him. For now, Marianne held her son and counted his toes and straightened his ears. He would have her heart shaped face when it wasn’t so baby-ish, and her dark hair. Everything else looked like it had tried to develop like Bog, but got lost somewhere between his sort of goblin and her fairy. The sprout was soft, but his hands and feet ended in nubby claws, and his feet, for that matter, were shaped like Marianne’s with Bog’s extra opposable digit. The little thing was all smiles and chirps for this warm fairy that held him, she could see it through his wide-open golden eyes.

Marianne was so engrossed with her newborn, that she hadn’t heard the thrum of dragonfly wings or even notice that the Bog King was grumbling as he touched down.

_“Those bastards could spend the rest of their lives stroking their own egos.”_ Bog had just gotten out of an exceptionally long meeting with a counsel of both Fair field and Dark Forest courtiers. It was one of many and though each meeting was a headache, this one had been missing the Fairy King. Not that Bog was particularly fond of him, but with the Fairy King present, such meetings were more productive. Bog was quite naturally intimidating, making field courtiers and forest courtiers equally afraid of saying anything that remotely sounded impudent. Princess Marianne was never brought up, despite Bog’s attempt at involving her work with the borders. Her work was an important part of the treaty between the Fairy King and the Bog King and usually a component of every discussion. Today Marianne and Bog’s schedules kept them in different meetings, moonrise was the first chance they had to say two words to eachother. Bog flew into the garden at such an angle that he could only see the tips of her wings from over the vine.

Bog heard Marianne fussing over the pumpkin vine and for brief moment worried, not for any reason it seemed, only to worry. The Bog King wasn’t sure he liked it. Inherently worrying like that. He heard a second sound, but it wasn’t familiar  to him. Perhaps it was a cricket? Maybe Marianne had caught it about to feast on the vine. No, whatever Marianne had cornered made very guttural noises along with the chirping.

_“Marianne?”_ The Bog King finally called out, she seemed occupied with whatever her victim was.

_“Bog?”_ Marianne said with a start. She whipped around to face him, her wings slacking from their upright position as she turned. She had something that looked like a cross between a larva and a spider in her arms. _“The flower bloomed!”_

With that, she charged the Bog King, plowing him over and into the curling tendrils of the pumpkin vine. That’s when he got a good look at what Marianne was holding. It wasn’t a larva, though its color was very similar, gold veins ran from its toes to its thorax, where Bog realized he was staring at a boy of some kind. Bog couldn’t get a good look at the boy’s face, it was buried in Marianne’s chest, but he noted the sprout’s toes and clawed hands as very similar to his own.

_“This is ours?”_ Bog whispered to Marianne, attempting a soft, gentle tone. Though it came out something like a growl.

_“Isn’t he beautiful?”_ Marianne turned the sprout’s head for his father to see him. Bog was jolted at the sight, but caught himself before letting his shoulders clack together.

_“The poor bairn,”_ Bog said aloud. _“I’ve doomed him.”_

_“What?”_ Marianne felt jarred out of her bliss. Her sprout was perfect. What was he talking about?

_“He has my nose.”_

Marianne looked at her boy again, then at Bog. She tweaked Bog’s nose, a toothy smirk spreading across her face when he tried to get away. _“I don’t see a problem here.”_

  _“Shou-“_ Bog started and stopped at once when Marianne put the sprout into Bog’s hands. He gulped. _“Marianne I don-“_

_“Don’t be absurd.”_ Bog’s hands could engulf Marianne’s entire head, he could easily hold the boy with just one of his hands, but he was small, and soft, and delicate.

_“What if I drop him? Or accidentally cut him?”_ Bog simpered, terrified that he would be the first casualty to his own child.

_“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”_ Marianne relaxed in the bow where Bog’s arm connected to his body.

_“He’s so … Squishy,”_ Bog observed. He had slipped the baby into one hand and conducted his own inspection of the wee sprout.

_“Of course he’s squishy,”_ Marianne tickled the boy’s belly. _“Have you ever seen such a cute baby?”_

_“Well, no.”_ Bog drawled out in his brogue, a confused strain of guilt leeching into the two words. _“I havnna seen all that many sprouts in my time.”_

_“Seriously?”_ Marianne sat up, turning to face the Bog King.

_“It’s not like my subjects are lining up to have me bless their offspring, goblins aren’t very welcoming when there’s a new sprout in the home anyway.”_ Or so he heard, in fact, goblins were naturally reclusive, throw a new bairn in the mix and it might be a miracle to see them leave their hovel.

_“O-oh,”_ Marianne lost some of her steam, remembering that not everyone found Bog as delightful as she did. _“Well, we can’t call him_ Squishy _all his life.”_

_“I’m sure we could manage,”_ The Bog King chuckled, even as Marianne drove her elbow into his side. He brought the baby close to the both of them. Catching for the first time, that although the boy’s eyes were shaped like his, they were molten and gold, just like his mother’s. _“He’ll be the next Bog King, and he’ll need to grow into it.”_

_“He’ll be named after you then?_ Bog King … _Junior.”_ Marianne made a face, making the little Bog King giggle.  _“We’ll call him B.K.”_

_“You’re right, B.K. sounds better.”_ The Bog King held his family closer, kissing Marianne and B.K. in turn.


End file.
